


stormaktstiden

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Devotion, M/M, Middle Ages, Rimming, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:09:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/811933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Under Swedish rule; wherein Finland is put down by Swedish nobility and Sweden does his best to make it up to him. De-anon from the kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	stormaktstiden

"Barbaric and backwards is what you are! My God, you cannot even get the simplest of terms right! Is this what we get for conquering your lands? An idiotic Finn is an idiotic Finn through and through. You certainly represent your people well."   
  
Finland's blood ran cold. Mutely, he stared at his feet, head bowed in front of the heir to the throne.  _Dum;_  he knew that word well. He's been called such ever since he stepped foot in the royal court behind Sweden, who had taken his hand in marriage.  _Marriage,_  it was called. It felt like anything but. He swallowed back the pain that burned in his chest from the insults. The insults were not directed at just him, but also his people. His people who were forced to learn the "right" language and follow the "right" books. It sickened and hurt him to know that such marvelous, well-to-do people were being insulted right in front of him. He couldn't do anything. They were no longer his people and he was no longer his own person.  
  
He mumbled an apology in accented Swedish, begging to be let go. He needed to get to be by himself, to flee to his and Sweden's chambers. He needed to collect himself before he faced the brooding empire. The prince practically spat on him.  
  
"Your tongue should be cut for mangling our language. Get out of my sight."  
  
He was gone as soon as he was given permission to go.

\--

  
Even the servants saw him as inferior. They mocked him in his presence and were praised by the nobles for doing so. He was lower than servants. He was lower than animals, too, he suspected. Finland swallowed harder, forcing himself away from others.  
  
Such actions didn't go unnoticed by Sweden. Finland smiled and stayed by his side, pretended that all was well, that he loved the royal court and that he truly felt as though he was so lucky to be under Sweden's rule rather than anyone else's. The domineering empire could taste the lies. He hated being lied to, but Finland was different. He didn’t chide him for it because he wanted to understand the reasoning behind the lies. It wasn’t until later one evening that the nation first heard the insults. He heard the prince conversing with a fellow noble about how idiotic the Finn was.  _He doesn't belong here,_  he drawled.  
  
Sweden saw red.  
  
Never before had he been so angered. Not even Denmark had managed to make him as angry as he was with the prince. Of course, physically, he could do nothing to the human prat, but he certainly didn't leave without telling him off.  
  
" _Never_  insult him again. Fin is not dumb, nor is he backwards. A new language takes some learning. You've quite a lot to learn yourself. Start with learning to compliment him." His words were hard, grating, malicious. The prince quivered. The nation was powerful, they all knew that, they all respected that. Sweden felt they ought to respect his wife as well. To them, he is weak and defenseless and dumb. To him, the Finn is beautiful, intelligent and powerful in his own right. Finland does fight alongside him, after all. He does not simply stand there and look pretty as the nobles' wives do. No -- his wife fought.  
  
But the Finn simply could not win this fight. These were Sweden's men, his nobility. They were to go untouched and not spoken out against. Sweden, however, would speak out whenever he had to. And he would definitely speak out if it concerned the other. There was no question about that.

\--

  
  
His beautiful wife sat in their chambers. He was quiet and still, gazing out the window as he often did. Finland felt trapped, truthfully. He didn't have much freedom, he was restricted, he was frightened of the empire who had wed him, and he was hated by the empire's people. Just why should they stay wed? Ah, for his lands, of course. That's all this was about. It was nothing more --  
  
"Fin."  
  
He jolted out of his seat, turning to face Sweden. He looked more frightening than usual, his glare showing the hints of anger that still lingered. Did he, too, feel he was inadequate and an idiot? Immediately, he apologized in frantic Swedish, looking like he just wanted to keep his distance.  
  
He looked so scared, so upset. Sweden halted in his tracks and watched him apologize and cower. Why was he so frightened? Had they reduced him to these tears? Why hadn't he seen this before? It only made his anger boil further. He wouldn't stand for this. There would be no chancing of this occurring again. No one hurt the one he loved most. No one.  
  
"Ra... rahota."  _Rahota? Rahota sounds like --_  
  
Finnish. Sweden was attempting to speak Finnish.  
  
And he did so rather terribly. He must not have remembered how to say it. Finland quieted, looking at him curiously. He stopped shaking. There were no tears, though he had clearly been frenzied moments prior. He was made less so just by Sweden's attempts.  
  
"... _rauhoitu_. I-It's  _rauhoitu_.  _Lugna ner_ , yes?" Finland asked meekly. His Swedish was poor, just as Sweden's Finnish was. While he could understand the empire with ease, communicating back was much more difficult. He opted for silence or writing rather than speaking to his husband. Sweden nodded, carefully approaching Finland as though he was hunting the man.  
  
"They hurt you. They won't anymore."  
  
For the first time, the look on Ruotsi's -- _Sverige's_  -- face did not scare him. Wide, violet eyes went unblinking. Had he really gone so far as to protect him? To stand up for him? How had he found out about what they say about him?  
  
They spoke about him, even behind his back.  
  
There was a tightening in his chest. Finland watched as his husband came closer, his expression one of worry and hurt on his behalf. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but he was silenced by a tender hand brushing through his flaxen hair.  
  
"I promise they won't hurt you. I won't let them," Sweden rumbled. Finland stared mutely. The tender touch of the other was like a true husband's. Was this what he wanted? Was he going to lie to him just to weaken him? He was not going to be weakened, he'd only become stronger, strong enough to not need to be fooled like this by the overbearing empire.  
  
However, the thing that made him shake, made him falter, made all those thoughts of being used disappear was the simplest kiss to his hand. Sweden was now kneeling before him. The frightening, ever-powerful empire, who was in his height of victory and glory, was kneeling before  _him_. He wasn't even his own nation, was seen as the lowest of all lows amongst Sweden's people, but he was being knelt in front of by the country himself. He blushed.  
  
"I will  _always_  protect you."  
  
A kiss to one knuckle, then to the others. All were kissed with the same amount of adoration. The Finn was silent. He couldn't think, couldn't believe this was happening. It wasn't possible that this man loved him, was it? Finland relaxed slowly, watching with growing fondness. Sweden was going against what his nobility thought, what everyone in the royal court thought. He was even kneeling before him, kissing his hand.  
  
"Thank you," Finland finally whispered. Sweden perked up, looking at him. His gaze softened and, for the first time, he smiled for his wife. It was subtle, hardly even there, but Finland cherished it. The empire was too much for him.  
  
This was only the beginning.

\--

  
"Um. Sve? I-I... I don't think this is necessary," Finland whispered, almost self-conscious about being dressed in Sweden's best clothes (tailored by his husband to fit him, of course). His hair was fixed up by the man who was being commissioned, and the small nation was forced to sit in an uncomfortable chair, face tilted to look a certain way. His gaze was trained on Sweden, who was standing to watch.  
  
"Relax. He's just painting you."  
  
"That's exactly it! This is too embarrassing!"  
  
" _Hold still_ ," the artist grumbled. Finland jumped a little, but went completely rigid as ordered. He swallowed down his nervousness. He would be here for a while, but by the looks of it, Sweden would stay by his side. It calmed him. He watched as the other moved to be directly in his line of sight.  
  
Despite himself, he smiled gently.  
  
"Your smile is beautiful," Sweden murmured.  
  
When the portrait was finished, he was still smiling.  
  
It quickly became Sweden's favorite painting in the world.

\--

  
"This is too much," Finland said, exasperated. Sweden blinked, looking at him. He then looked at the many portraits that showed off his beautiful wife in many poses and styles of dress. He had one commissioned of the both of them; it hung in their chambers. His hand was on Finland's shoulder and Finland's hand was on his.  
  
It was all so embarrassing to Finland, though. To see his face, to see that the nobility were forcing themselves not to burn the portraits was just overwhelming. He didn't think he was worthy of portraits of himself, but Sweden reassured him he was fit for painting.  _You should be the only subject of painting for the rest of time._  That had made Finland laugh. It was unbelievably, disgustingly...  _romantic._  
  
It took him a bit to figure it all out. Sweden wasn't just doing all these things to make Finland feel better about himself; he was also doing them as romantic gestures. Finland was dressed handsomely, was doted upon by servants, was treated higher than the King himself. It was all done because he had been insulted. It was done because Sweden couldn't bear to see his wife hurt -- and also because he’d never had such a chance to shower him in the affections he wanted to.  
  
He was beyond affectionate, however. It was almost suffocating. Finland still hadn't the freedoms he yearned for, but he had to admit, this was pleasurable in its own way. Until it just became too much.  
  
"No more paintings. P-Please. I'm very flattered, Sve, really! Oh, please don't make that face! I love that you care so much, I do, but..." he trailed off, waving his hands about a bit. Sweden stared at him, as usual, but with less of a moping face and more of a  _hopeful_  one. His wife loved it? He was so relieved! Finland was simply growing tired of the paintings. He would just have to do something else.

\--

  
" _Sve_ ," Finland murmured, stretching his body out.  _Oh_ , the empire's hands were fantastic. The massage was absolutely delightful. If physical affection was what he was now getting instead, he could certainly get used to it. Such powerful hands roamed over his body, squeezing and kneading all his sore spots. They had fought that day and emerged victorious. Their clothes had been bloodied up and they had shared a few drinks, and now Sweden was doting on him happily. He nuzzled the back of his wife's pale neck and earned a light laugh in return.  
  
Soft curves were traced, squeezed. Sweden's lips pressed against his neck and trailed down, leaving Finland quiet and relaxed in their bed. He felt his husband kiss lower and lower, his thumbs rubbing in circles. He went over his ass, down his thighs and legs, and massaged his feet. Finland's toes curled and he groaned out. Sweden knew all of the right places. It was turning him on, making him ache for the other. He lifted up a bit, legs parting more. He heard the catching of Sweden's breath and smirked into the bedding.  
  
" _Oh_."  
  
"That good?"  
  
Did he really have to answer that? Finland's fingers gripped and curled, his face warm and flushed. His husband's hand trailed up to caress the inside of a thigh slowly and he thought he was purposefully going to be driven mad. Another low moan escaped him and he raised his hips more, much to the delight of the other. This empire was phenomenal. Finland couldn't help but look over his shoulder, eager for more, practically liquid in the hands of his husband, who was concentrated on both inner thighs, gripping, rubbing. The hands moved to his ass and he almost asked him to stop, but the look in Sweden’s eyes made any objections become obsolete.  
  
He looked absolutely enamored by him.  
  
Sweden looked so in  _love_ , so happy to be touching him and having him close, having him moaning and needing more. He knew exactly what he was doing. It was all on purpose. The fantastic feasts in the evening, the long walks they had shared in the afternoons, the way he had doted upon him hand and foot was all thought out carefully.  
  
He moved, much to the surprise of the man massaging him. Carefully, Finland turned to lay on his back, showing off how hard his husband had made him. He watched him stare, eyebrows knitted together from concentration beforehand -- and perhaps restraint. Never would he force himself upon the smaller nation. Never would he hurt him.  
  
Sweden’s hands didn't move to touch the exposed front of his wife's body. He admired his curves, the chubbiness of his figure, the way he was filled out everywhere. His gaze roamed until it rested on the amazing face he had the pleasure of capturing in so many paintings. Sweden couldn't help but notice that, ever since he had cloaked his wife in all the adoration he had kept hidden for years, Finland had become less afraid. He was looking at him, his body wasn't shaking. He looked at him fondly, filled with mutual adoration.  
  
He felt his wife carefully touch his face and then melted, almost purring like a lion. He heard the lightest laugh escape the other and he came a little closer, still fully dressed in his night clothes.  
  
" _Min käre make_ ," Finland murmured, making Sweden blush deep red. Never had he addressed him as that, as his  _husband_. It made him weak, made him want to hold him close and smile and kiss him all over. It was almost too good to be true.  
  
" _Ja, min vackra fru?_ " he murmured, his voice almost cracking, dressed up in happiness. Finland laughed for him, his arms moving around him to pull him in close. He had never felt so truly beautiful in all of his life as a nation. He did not feel that nations were deserving of being considered such, seeing as they weren't human.  
  
He felt so very, very human with Sweden.  
  
Closing his eyes tightly, he let out a shaky breath.  
  
"Please touch me." Ever nervous, he pulled away. Sweden asked if he was certain and Finland answered that he was -- though the exchange was done only through their looks. They had kissed once before. While Sweden had wanted ever so badly to become more and more physical, to hold the other and kiss him and take delight in his body as well as his heart, he hadn't. He would have waited centuries if he had to.  
  
After a minute or so, he nodded. Carefully, his large hands went over soft skin once more, dipping down his sides and his stomach, reaching Finland's hard cock. It made him rather proud to see he could turn him on, that only he had the pleasure of seeing his wife like this, sprawled out and willing. Beautiful. Squeezing gently, he stroked the full length of his cock, his wife's legs parting more, sighs escaping him before a hard moan followed.  
  
The same thumb that had rubbed knots out of his shoulders ran up the prominent vein, up to tease the head. Finland couldn't believe how wonderful everything felt. The roughness wasn't awkward, but delightful. The gentle touch drove him mad, had him moaning out for more.  
  
" _Fin_ ," Sweden growled, moving to bury his face into the crook of his shoulder. His grip tightened just a bit, being careful with his wife (for fear of hurting him, just as he hurts others on the battlefield). His speed gradually picked up and he had the other moaning out harder, gripping in a surprisingly strong manner. He only grunted again, his focus completely on Finland, on his body that deserved all of the praise in the world. He couldn't understand a word Finland was trying to say. It was broken Swedish and mixed Finnish, though he could only assume that this was amazing to him and that he was probably asking for more. He jerked his hand up and down, watching Finland’s back arch and his wonderful hips come up to meet his hand. Oh, the Finn thought he ought to return the favor, he ought to ask for Sweden to take his cock out, but he couldn't find the words.  
  
There was a hint of possessiveness in the way Sweden held a hip down. His hand slowed and he pulled away, kissing feverishly over the skin he had to himself, tongue sliding down to taste the sweat. Normally, Finland would’ve objected but it only made him feel even more aroused. He breathed out, moving his hands shakily to rid his husband of his clothes, thankful when those strong hands quickly moved away to do just that. If his wife wanted him naked, too, he would bare all. He had to stop touching him, but Finland took care of that himself, his slimmer hand wrapping around his cock, making Sweden’s own twitch at the sight. His wife was sprawled out, touching himself, begging for Sweden to be naked, to be close and adorning him in all that love, just as he had before.  
  
Finland watched, eyes glued to his husband's body, relishing in the way he could see him in all his glory -- so strong, ferocious, passionate. His body was so amazing and he squeezed himself a bit tighter as he looked at how large his cock was, how it hit the man's stomach. All he needed was the sight before him and he could come, but Sweden wouldn't allow for that to happen. He stopped Finland, much to his wife's irritated objections, a fury of, "please don't stop me, I need this, oh, Sve, you're  _terrible_."  
  
It was amusing.  
  
He leaned in, capturing his wife's lips, forming over the top lip and running his tongue over it, teasing the other as he kissed and kissed, fumbling and eager and sometimes missing. Their noses bumped and Finland laughed lightly before he was silenced with more kisses and touches; the other’s lips were marking him below and warm breath was huffed on his navel, only serving to make him laugh again. Sweden’s tongue and lips slid over Finland’s cock, sucking on the head briefly before pulling and pushing his wife into the position he wanted him in. He held those hips as he feasted on the sight of Finland up-close, almost all the way upside down. Finland looked at him, eyes widening as Sweden's tongue slid over to his entrance, tracing over from there to his balls with ease. The long licks of his tongue had him reduced to complete incoherence. It was dirty but, oh, it felt so good at the same time. He was being appreciated even  _there_ , appreciated everywhere that was supposed to be disgusting or horrible, but Sweden was claiming it was beautiful. His body was amazing, the way he tasted was sweeter than any fine dessert. His wife blushed and moaned, the tongue soon probing inside and moving around.  
  
Sweden moved his tongue in and out, his hands supporting his wife, soon pulling away so he could have him in a more comfortable position. He scooted downward, his wife's hips lifted. His tongue moved in deeper, making Finland cry out more and more. He groaned against him as he felt him move back, grinding a bit against his face, needing more because he was so close, he whispered. Making sure he was slick enough, he pulled away only to slide in a finger, getting it deep inside of him. He breathed hard, watching the way Finland tried to keep his head up, his mouth shut, but failed at both things. His smaller body rocked back rhythmically, his cock bobbing a bit as he moved quicker. Sweden's finger curled a bit and that was it for Finland. He couldn't take it anymore, his walls tightened as he came hard, not even needing to stroke himself to orgasm. The movements of his hips against the thrusting of a single finger was all he needed to come. His husband was near him, huskily breathing out as he rubbed his body lovingly, leaving him panting and shaking.  
  
After his wife stopped moving, now simply catching his breath, Sweden pulled his finger out, his cock dripping with precum and throbbing, so close from just watching. He went to grab himself, but Finland was turning over again, shakily sitting up.  
  
"Fin?"  
  
A soft hand wrapped around him and he hissed. He hadn't meant to force his beloved to touch him and he would have protested, if it wasn't for that fire in those violet eyes. He wanted this, needed this.  
  
" _Berwald, please_ ," he cooed, using his  _name_ , his real name, not even calling him Sverige (which still sent shivers down his spine every time), but  _Berwald._  He grunted, pushing forward against the hand around him. Finland, _Timo_ , grinned, moving a bit awkwardly at first, but soon quickened his strokes, squeezing the base teasingly light before going over every inch. So large and big and how he could feel the build-up under his sweaty palm. Precum made for a slicker cock, he noted as he slid it all over and even leaned in to lick up a bit of the saltiness, wanting more but not testing too many boundaries just yet.  
  
" _Timo_ ," Berwald groaned, obviously holding back from rocking forward quickly, wanting nothing more than to make love with the other, but knowing that this was far enough. This was consummation enough and -- ah, he could hardly think. He cursed lowly and brought a hand up to run through his hair, his body sweaty and hot. The muscles in his stomach tightened and his cock throbbed. He glanced down and watched the other open his mouth, wet his lips, and he was coming just from that single sight. He pushed forward and his cum got all over his wife’s soft hand and beautiful face, the face that was immortalized in the paintings hanging around the royal court and even in their chambers. He grunted again, looking at the white strips of cum staining Finland’s face. All that had fallen on his wife’s lips was swallowed. The other grinned happily up at him, giving him the pleasure of that erotic sight before taking his fingers and cleaning himself off.  
  
The empire murmured an apology, sheepish. Finland shook his head. He calmed him down and once he had wiped enough of the cum off, he pulled him in close, falling back on the bed.

\--

  
"Just like our first time," Timo whispered, laughing tiredly. Berwald hummed from above him, pulling the body of his wife close to him. It had been a while since either of them had thought about how things were back then. Timo had started with remembering how he was so doted upon and Berwald quickly jumped at the chance to lavish him with adoration again. Hugs from behind, kisses to his neck which made the other laugh and squirm. He made dinner for the two of them, gave him a massage which lead to them reminiscing and getting lost in how it all felt, how familiar it all was.  
  
"It felt even better, though! You've gotten so much better at massaging, Ber!" he chirped happily. Berwald smirked and hummed again, hand sliding down over his side.  
  
There was more to it than he let on, but it was understood mutually. They were free, free from the constrictions put upon them by the government. Finland was an independent nation. He was free to do as he wanted, to go wherever he wanted, instead of being strapped down and stuck beside his husband, helpless and only capable of following. It felt so much better because they were also so in love with each other, more than they ever had been. Berwald had lavished his wife, his  _equal_  in adoration as usual, but it felt so much more right. It wasn't done because insults were a catalyst. He did it because he simply wanted to and knew his wife would love it.  
  
Timo's hand moved to caress his husband's cheek, practically melting as those eyes opened again, staring at him.  
  
" _Min käre make_ ," he murmured, still reminiscing. Berwald chuckled quietly, not having been called that in so long, let alone in Swedish. He pressed his forehead to Timo's, eyes slipping shut.  
  
" _Ja, min vackra fru?_ "

**Author's Note:**

> stormaktstiden - "the great power era," dum - dumb, rauhoitu- calm down (finnish), lugner ner - calm down (swedish), min käre make - my dear husband, ja, min vackra fru? - yes, my beautiful wife? It's implied they speak Swedish throughout, but these phrases are in Swedish for emphasis. No research, thus historical inaccuracies abound. Much thanks to my beta for cleaning this up. ♥


End file.
